Adventures in Keeping a Low Profile
by Artificial Life Creator
Summary: If only one could be a fly on the wall of the Helicarrier... Laundry technicians may never be in the line of fire, but someone must replace the towels in, say, Agent Coulson's room. Some stories are based on tumblr blogs. Others aren't. Some deal with mental health. Some even work together to make a plot! Smiles are expected :)
1. SHIELD Recruit Survival Tip 1

Firstly, the Avengers are not mine. They belong to Marvel.

Next, this tip is not mine. It came from the tumblr 'SHIELD Recruit Survival Tips'.

* * *

Tip 1

_Always make more coffee if you empty the pot. You do not want to know what will happen to you if you fail to do so._

* * *

The situation required very careful thinking, not to mention the wording. I pondered for about a minute before grasping the high quality plastic handle and turned to face my peers.

"I'm about to put on a new pot of coffee. Who wants the rest of this one?"

Agent Coulson entered the mess from a nearby door, and anyone who was about to call dibs were suddenly uninterested.

"One cream, no sugar," I said as I poured out the dregs.

Agent Coulson took a sip and seemed satisfied, "Good work Agent Scott,"

"Anything I can do to help," I replied with a smile. He smiled too, and left, while I gave the pot a rinse and set the coffee maker up for maximum gurgle.

"Hey Gladys," said Agent Whitehouse as I walked by, "Was that all you're having for breakfast?"

"Already ate," I replied, and perched on the edge of the table"I could get dressed and come here to eat without a shower, or I could eat, scrub, and then get dressed." I wrinkled my nose, "I'd rather start the day off warm and clean."

"You're that hungry," said Agent Minassian.

I put on my best 'shame face', "I regret to admit it, but it's true."

"And yet two pieces of toast, a glass of juice, and a cup of hot chocolate'll hold you out 'till dinner," said Agent Whitehouse.

"Two stimulants?" I offered.

"Again, jeal-ous," said Agent Whitehouse.

"Excuse me while I turn sideways and fall through any wooden floor," I said dryly.

The room suddenly seemed quite a bit emptier than earlier, and my phone buzzed.

"Aw crap," whined Agent Minassian, "We're gonna be laaate."

"Last one to the laundry room's on oil duty!" yelled another laundry technician.

"That's my cue," I smiled and grabbed my bag, "I bid thee adieu."

"See you later."

"Bye Gladys."

* * *

Sometimes I like to run behind my laundry cart until it gets going at quite a clip. That's when I hop on the back and sail through the hallways. Quite a fun way to clean up my afternoon. I figure as long as I don't hit anyone, it's okay, which is why I prefer dealing with the less-traveled wings of the Helicarrier. As such, when Agent Coulson appeared at the next junction, I was more than a little surprised. I threw all my weight onto the brake plate and wound up with a handle bar in the stomach for my troubles.

"In the interest of keeping less diplomatic parties off your case, why didn't you take the last cup?" he asked.

I hopped down and checked the wheels. Burnt rubber is such a nasty smell. "I don't drink the stuff, but even if I did, someone here probably needs it more than me," I replied and stood, "I have eight or nine genetically modified cups a day."

"Really." He was interested. Or playing along. Not entirely sure which. "I'd like to talk to you about your caffeine source."

"It hits a certain part of my brain, keeps me awake and focused...?" This was... Something was wrong. "With all due respect Agent Coulson, when was the last time you slept?" I hastily continued, "Sir, I just led you to believe that my ADHD medication is a substitute for coffee. If I can get that by you, I can't imagine what the Avengers will try and pull."

He mulled this over, "Three days might be a bit much,"

"A little, yea." I gestured to my cart, "If you wanna hop in, I'll give you a ride to your quarters if you don't mind two-sleep old sheets."

I'll let the reader decide how that ends ;)

* * *

And thus, here be the first of... a dozen (?) shorts I've written based off the tumbr blogs SHIELD Recruit Survival Tips and Memos From Fury. Some others pertain to mental health. Is 'short' the right term for interconnected stories that aren't very long?

Anywho, this wasn't originally going to be the beginning of this series, but the other candidate wasn't based off a tip. It has more character development than this one, but a couple of my friends it would work. Would the reader care to comment? Is there enough detail about Gladys Scott to form a rapport? Now that I think about it, maybe that Tip 457 (_Do not, under any circumstances, harass the office workers in any way, shape, or form. Organizational skills weren't the only reason they were hired_) would have been best. Eh, whatever. I did track it down in, what, 30 seconds, however I want to post this thing!

I'm kinda wondering about taking a different angle with this, and calling it 'Fury's Snakes'. The thing is, I wouldn't be experimenting with a technique that has me in awe. It would start right in the action, without this 'moseying along' stuff. 'Cept I need the moseying along stuff for zee technique. And I'm worried about not starting with the action because you lovely people'll get bored. *sigh*. I'll figure out something (although I'd love advise).

Thank you very much for your time, I really appreciate it :)

- ALC


	2. SHIELD Recruit Survival Tip 2

Many thanks to Lady Sieon and her Agent Stone for giving me a name. Let that be a message to all readers! I need names, so if you don't mind me using your quarters as landmarkers, please let me know!

* * *

S.H.I.E.L.D. Recruit Survival Tip #2: Remain aware of the ceiling tiles. Agent Barton likes to hide in them with NERF weaponry.

* * *

I sat on an overturned bucket in a closet. My clipboard was decked with a fresh sheet of paper and I wielded a pen. How exactly should I bring Agent Stone up to date?

Might as well start with her name and the subject:

_Re: Your quarters_

_Good day Agent Stone,_

TThat sounds ominous.

I hastily elaborated:

_Don't worry- I've take care of your room (tidied and changed the linens)_.

Now that I thought about it, I left in a hurry. Maybe I forgot something. "..._however if you find any NERF ammo, it belongs to Agent Barton and I'm sure he will be happy to have it back_."

And here comes my spiteful side: _(so keep it for a while, if you please)._

Is it just me, or does that not actually clear up the situation?

_Allow me to explain._..

* * *

It all started yesterday morning:

"Good morning Agent Scott."

I smiled back at the older gentleman standing in front of my table, "Good morning Agent Clarke, what can I do for you?"

He had a bushy grey moustache and twinkly brown eyes with a crinkle factor relative to the breadth of his smile (which had just grown), "I can't just say hello?"

I leaned back and crossed my arms, "you're due back in New York and we have a new shift manager."

He nodded and took a seat, "You are quite astute Agent Scott."

"Want me to take over until you get this straightened out?" I asked, then did a double take, "You do that too?"

"Get others to ask _me_ what _I_ want? I didn't get this old without learning at least something," he replied, "I should warn you that Agent Stone is on my rounds."

"Agent Stone as in 'got stuck in the vent shaft' Agent Stone?"

"The very same."

She probably doesn't need that much detail. I settle with _"I'm the laundry technician (temporarily) assigned to this corridor._"

* * *

Now for the problem:

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and I swear it came from the ceiling. I heard a click. I leapt a few feet in the air with a hiss.

And then I was struck by a barrage of foam missiles.

I screamed bloody murder and dove back into the room.

I threw myself under the bed and had my Swiss Army knife in hand before I started running through scenarios.

…My reputation for being a 'fraidy cat doesn't need more help.

_"As I was leaving your quarters this morning, I was accosted by Agent Barton, or rather, a round of NERF darts."_ (That sounds nice.)

* * *

A few moments later, someone knocked on the door: "Uh, sorry about that. I thought you were Agent Stone." I could hardly hear him over the taiko drum slamming against my ribs. It was _really_ starting to hurt.

_He apologized, and said he mistook me for you._

* * *

I took motor control back from the flight or fight response: "Want your ammo back?" I asked.

"Yea, if you wouldn't mind."

I actually had to force my legs by hand, but everything seemed better out in the open.

"Take them and go," I said, and Agent Barton started pulling off darts. Quoting skits and TV shows meant I didn't have to do a lick of thinking.

"Any way I can make this up to you?

"I'm sure there's something. I'll call it in later though." A ceiling tile four squares down had fallen open so an automatic NERF crossbow had a clear shot into the hall.

_I thought it best to let you know of this occurrence, and I would also like to warn you- he had a few more rounds at the ready. In the coming days, I recommend you keep your wits about you._

* * *

And that about sums up that ten minutes.

I dropped Clipboard into my cart and, with a great feeling of trepidation, crept back to Agent Stone's room. I slipped inside, and put my note on her pillow. I gave the room another going over but I didn't see any darts.

Was I hoping they were all gone (for the sake of my career), or was I subconsciously missing one? I shrugged; she wasn't a new recruit, so if Agent Barton was lying in wait, she had her own arsenal.

* * *

Did the spacing work out? I'm never sure how Fanfiction's gonna display line spaces and stuff. Does it flow okay? Follow-able? Should I try this format again?

I'm still pondering stuff... Eh, I have a 8 hour car ride ahead of me. I'm sure to figure _something _out.

Thank you very much!

- ALC


	3. Memos From Fury Aug29-12

Greetings o wonderful Readers!

I'm so thrilled that people are here! Thank you sooo much, you're all amazing people :)

I figured out the different pieces fit together, as such, I present this chapter! Hopefully it (the chapter) won't seem too 'typical OC' or Mary Sue-ish. I'll explain at the end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing save Gladys Scott. The 'prompt' comes from the 'Memos From Fury' tumblr (basically shove all that into the address bar (without paces) and then type 'dot tumblr dot com' and it should show up. Digging will be required to find this specific memo however, sorry about that.)

* * *

_August 29, 2012_

_From the Desk of Director Nick Fury: Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division_

_Washington, D.C._

_To Whom it May Concern:_

_Mr. Stark's work with carbon fibers is intended as a revolutionary new project that could lead to a space elevator; NOT a tow rope long enough to waterski from the Helicarrier._

_On a related note, I expect Capt. Rogers' shield to be returned to him by the end of the day, or else._

_- NICK FURY (Director, S.H.I.E.L.D)_

* * *

On the bright side, I got to go for a swim in the ocean, I satisfied my vitamin D quota for the day, and I got the rest of the day off. On the down side, I hurt all over. At least my jacket was dry. And flying through the air was pretty fun too.

* * *

It all started a few hours ago. I was on my break, on 'my' beanbag in the rec room. It seemed to go quiet all of a sudden, and I looked up from my book to see Mr. Stark.

"You're the lightest person on the ship," he said, "You need to come with me because I didn't just spend fifteen minutes digging through personnel records for someone we can use for control."

"Okay." There wasn't room in my jacket for my book, so I wrapped them up and followed Mr. Stark.

He'd already left the room. I was torn. I knew better.

But no one else had to know that.

As far as the record would say, I happily gave up my break because I would be useful, and maybe help while I was at it.

* * *

He led me to a deck-level lab.

"Oh good," said Dr. Banner, "You came."

"I only had to ask her once," Mr. Stark said proudly- from the ground? He tied something around my ankle. Dr. Banner wrapped a cord twice around my waist, and Mr. Stark pulled my hair into a ponytail.

"What's-,"

"The uniforms are water resistant, right?" asked Dr. Banner.

"Dunno. Drag proof at least," shrugged Mr. Stark.

Dr. Banner put me in a vest and clipped it to my belt. He and Mr. Stark each took an arm and carried me outside.

"Hang on- what're you-,"

"Ready to go?" asked Mr. Stark.

Dr. Banner tugged on the vest and checked the cord again, "Yep."

Mr. Stark shoved Captain Rogers' shield into my hands.

"What'm I supposed to do with-,"

"He told you what we're doing, right?" asked Dr. Banner.

"No?"

Doctor Banner glared at Mr. Stark, "You were supposed to get her to agree to this."

"She did! Let's go!" replied Mr. Stark and pushed me off the Helicarrier.

* * *

"Get on the shield!" Doctor Banner called.

"What?"

"The Helicarrier's gonna start any second!" yelled Mr. Stark.

"Are you nuts?!" The cable and bungee cord around my waist and ankle were directly attacked to the Helicarrier. They were nuts. I pulled myself onto she shield and stuck my hands through the strap.

I heard the whirl of air blades.

All I could do was hold on for dear life.

* * *

I don't know how long I was out there. I'd gone airborne off a wave a million times, and of that, a quarter of the time I'd just kept going until I'd made a rather nice arch. If only I weren't upside down! It was during one of these flips that someone noticed the random Captain America sigil in the middle of the ocean and alerted the proper authorities. I started to hear 'Man overboard' and the engines slowly shut down, and then I saw a black blob- how could black blobs come across as imposing? It was like the light was swallowed- oh, never mind, that was a cloud.

I felt a tug on my ankle and my blood froze. I was jerked off the shield and into the maw of whatever horrible awful sea monster thought I was a turtle. It towed me backwards for another second, and then suddenly my chest tightened.

And then I was foot out of the water.

Oops.

Silly me and my overactive imagination, imagining scary things rising up from the…

Aw crap.

I'd stopped shivering a while back, but somehow or another I started to shake again. Badly.

Don't think of Jurassic Fight Club don't- oh crap.

The darker patches of water were suddenly megadolon sharks and giant sperm whales.

Giant squid writhed just below the surface.

Weeping angels massive spiders Loch Ness monsters Vashta Nerada…

Darkness. SHADOWS.

I slammed my eyes shut and anticipated stinky-fish breath.

The temperature leapt up a few degrees.

Oh, that's what happened. I swung back underneath the deck and came rather close to the mess of pipes and scaffolding that made up the back of the ship.

I couldn't do anything. I had to get up had to get up had to get up-

I came back out into the sun.

My hands (and more importantly, my fingers) were black, blue, and purple but so help me I was still going to haul myself up the cable. If only I didn't have this damn shield in my arms.

The ship's wall loomed.

I jammed the shield between two beams.

"Stop moving!" someone called.

"Get me outta here!" I shrieked. The activity on deck took on a more frantic vibe.

Oh my god it was going to come out of the water any second and I wasn't high enough and it was gonna eat me or something-

Something grabbed my arm, I screamed and threw myself in the opposite direction.

It had me by the scruff of my shirt.

It had my head- oh, that feels nice (A couple people were stroking my hair).

"You're OK Gladys, we've got you," someone said.

I saw something vaguely human-shaped crouch down before me and I latched on for dear life.

"It's forty feet down," I whispered to Director Fury. He gave my shoulder a pat and found I was kinda stuck, so he wound up carrying me to the gunnery and setting me down. Took a little longer to pry me off, but that wasn't entirely my (imagination's) fault. I literally could not move my arms. Within moments, the EMT had me out of the vest and into an oxygen mask.

"Take her away," the director ordered and returned to crew on deck. "All search teams in the water," he commanded, "I want that shield back before dawn." He turned his eye on the two Avengers, "And you two are joining them."

I rock.

* * *

And I have an idea for the next chapter! *dances* Comments, questions, concerns, or just want to say hi? There's a wee button down there begging for attention. One lovely reviewer (Saoirse Driscoll) told me you folks liked reading about the day-to-day lives of SHIELD agents, and I shall get on that, I promise.

Is there anything else anyone would like to see? A particular head-cannon, Survival Tip, or 'From the Desk of [SHIELD Employee]'? (Suggesting that stuff's allowed, right? It's not that I can't come up with anything original, I just want this story to relate to something).

Can't wait to hear from you guys,

- ALC


	4. SHIELD Recruit Survival Tip 22

Paris! Anime Convention panic! Paris! Ahhh!

But Paris was so absolutely beautiful. It's almost not fair. Seriously, it's gorgeous even in a torrential downpour. And I said to Mom, "It's a good thing that we have all those beautiful colours in the fall or we'd never get any tourism. Ever." She agreed. What really struck me was just how _old_ everything was. Notre Dame is going on 850, which is twice as old as people have been coming to Canada. And there's so many everyday buildings that date black to the 1700s. Like, these people have had this kind of architecture when eventually-to-be Canadians were living in huts and using mud as an insulator.

Anyway, on with the Adventures of Gladys!

* * *

_SHIELD Recruit Survival Tip Number 22_

_Agent Coulson is not a robot. Do not throw magnets at him to see if they stick._

Dr Banner and Mr Stark's little 'experiment' of shoving me off the helicarrier to test water sledding left me with two broken fingers, another four sprained, an unhappy tendon in my left wrist, and a right thumb that kept doing this weird 'clicky' thing.

This left me pretty much useless for changing sheets. That's why I was reassigned to day care aid, at least until the splints came off.

This one day, I was helping out the Grade Two group. They had spent the morning sculpting magnets carefully from that home-use clay stuff. Since I wasn't a licensed childcare practitioner, it fell to me to get the clay to and from the kitchens. My plastic tray was covered in magnets, and goodness were they still radiating a lot of heat.

It was during one such escort that I heard footsteps behind me, and I smiled at Agent Coulson as I did a one-eighty to open the door.

"Thank you very much Agent Scott," he said as he passed.

"You're welcome," I replied, and promptly tripped. Some magnets and bits of stupidly hot ceramic failed to launch and resigned themselves to blistering my hands. Most however went flying through the air, and like a hail of volcanic debris, descended upon Agent Coulson.

And stuck.

Fancy that.

* * *

"I still say he's the Terminator," said Agent Blake, "Because silver isn't magnetic."

I had a nurse on each hand and burns up to my wrists.

"The fact he has custom suits does not make him a futuristic killing machine," I replied with an eye roll.

"He could be a vampire hunter," said Agent White.

"The silver is /thread/. How could he get some out in time to do anything?" They're being ridiculous, I thought.

Both agents looked at me with big eyes.

"He could," said Agent White.

"Don't question it, just accept that he can and does," added Agent Blake.

"You know all this about him yet you still think he could be a Terminator or a vampire hunter," I raised an eyebrow at their expressions, "Or both? Seriously guys?" But I was a little less sure of my position. Why did the magnets stick? Either the clay itself stuck, or there was another source of metal. 'Cause his suit wouldn't have polyester, right? It's waaaay to high quality.

And then my nosed began to itch.

"I need a scratching post please."

Agent White went off in search of some Velcro she could tape to my hand. In the meantime, all RAM was diverted to relieving the irritant so other problems became so totally completely inconsequential.

Because really, Agents White and Blake were grasping at straws.

* * *

What do YOU think?

(Can't wait to read the replies for this one! I do so love hearing from you guys!)


	5. Tip 22 Redux: the Debrief

So. 22 reviews. I didn't scream like I did at 19, because no one was around to hear. Except the dog and the dog would have started barking. I think I'm most proud of this reaction: "'Agent Coulson is not a robot. Do not throw magnets at him to see if they stick' I just spit my Earl Grey tea on my monitor. Feh. " I love you chatnoir1. Kinda reminds me of when I was doing a 'Canada's hinterland' thing my now-boyfriend's dad, and left this little gem while the BF was off brushing his teeth: "While sleeping, the Bruce-us Dearest-us makes a noise not unlike that of a motorcycle backfiring." Matt came wandering in from the bathroom and spat tooth paste all over his laptop. I was, and am, unreasonably proud of myself.

Just because I got a whole lotta different theories on the subject, decided to write a follow up piece! And without further ado, please enjoy Gladys' debrief meeting with everyone's favorite Agent!

* * *

"Good morning Agent Scott," said Agent Coulson.

"Good morning Agent Coulson," I replied, "Cookie? it's chocolate chip."

"Thank you." He took the cookie and gestured at the chair. "Have a seat."

So I did, and nibbled on my own treat. White chocolate macadamia. Yum. I used to get them after I'd talked to a professor at school. I went from being terrified at the prospect of discussing my academic career to actually being excited. It had yet to work for being called into the office of ninjas though.

"I'd like to hear your report on yesterday's events."

Yesterday? What on earth happened yesterday?

"The magnets," added Agent Coulson.

"Oooo, that event. Well, I was walking, and then I tripped, some magnets stuck to you and I got burned."

"Do you know why you tripped?"

"Noo? I guess I just randomly fell over. Happens to everyone, right?"

Agent Coulson made a note. I took a tiny bite of cookie and tried to calm down.

"Why do you think they stuck? I didn't think second graders used rare earth magnets."

"Maybe the clay melted to your coat? But the only thing that would melt that fast are polyesters, and you wear stuff that's too high quality for that."

"Any other theories?"

"The nurses who treated me said you were a Terminator- do you need their names?"

"Yes please."

I listed them. "Gonna check where they are in the grand scheme of the rumour mill?" Cept that metaphor didn't quite work due to the lack of measurables. "Er, grapevine?"

Agent Coulson smiled slightly. "You don't have the clearance to know that information."

"Right. Sorry. Didn't mean to insinuate anything I'm so sorry-,"

"Agent Scott, I know you were asking to avoid making it out to seem like you were tattling."

I felt a little better.

"Any other theories?"

"You have metal thread in your clothes- I thought silver but it's not nearly magnetic enough." I shuttered to a stop. "I thought- well, not me, it was- the nurses suggested it- Because you may be a vampire hunter and you could just pull out a thread like that-." I vaguely mimed wielding a string. "But it can't be silver so you're probably not a vampire hunter or handler or whatever unless the whole 'weak to silver' thing is a myth and it's actually steel but then the Dark Ages would've stayed dark- Because the vampires would take over," I added hastily.

"Iron would work," Agent Coulson suggested, "You aren't in the labs often enough to have it cued."

Oh thank the heavens above that I didn't have to butcher a "please don't think I'm stupid".

"You're in to Cognitive Science?" I asked.

"Only when it's useful."

"So, basically all of it? Cogsci's always useful."

"Anything else?"

"Thor made you a suit of armour- like a really thin, really light chain mail shirt." I let my eyes light up to emphasize the next part: "the very best Asgard has to offer." Next part wasn't so fascinating: "either for the funeral or as a thank you gift... From Thor or the All Father or from the... All Mother, or even from all of Asgard." (1) I took a deep breath. "Is this how this works?"

"If this is your perspective, then yes, 'this' is how 'this' works." He finished writing. "Is that all?"

My pulse ramped up.

"So, I know- I mean- it's obvious you always try to do a good- you're always on top of your game. After the, um,"

"Tesseract incident?"

"Uh, well, more specific than that-,"

"After Director Fury faked my death?"

The steel bars around my chest loosened considerably and I felt a lot less like I was about to keel over, die, or be killed.

"Yea, after that, you may have come back to active duty for a couple weeks or a couple days or /something/ and found you were lacking- but only from our perspective of course or the doctors recommended you sit out a little longer because the stress was messing with your injury- injuries? Not that stress is a problem for you- because you handle it so well, I'm not saying this isn't a stressful job unless it is stressful-,"

"Agent Scott, would you like an ice pack?"

I nodded.

Agent Coulson pressed a button on his phone and connected with his assistant. A few moments later she came in with a tightly wrapped towel and, when Agent Coulson nodded, handed it to me.

"Thank you very much," I said.

"Thank you Agent Chani," said Agent Coulson.

I unzipped my jacket and fitted the ice pack between the small of my back and the chair.

"How do magnets and a leave of absence relate?"

"There's a life model decoy of you running around while you recuperate a bit more?" (2)

Agent Coulson made a note of this too. "Thank you very much Agent Scott, that will be all."

I shot to my feet. "You're very welcome sir, uh, what would you have me do with the ice pack?"

Agent Coulson said 'not "Return it to Agent Chani when you're done with it."

"When would that be?"

He looked up. "Are you feeling any less stressed about the heat?"

Not really, no.

"I'll take your silent to mean 'no' or 'not really'. Keep it close until you cool down, and then bring it by tomorrow."

I bowed jerkily. "Thank you very much sir. Uh, have a nice lunch."

"You're welcome Agent Scott, and likewise."

"Thank you sir, I'll do my best." And that sounded like I nice finale, so I slipped out the door, smiled at Agent Chani, and scurried away.

* * *

I don't think this chapter was very good for my health. I got so flustered, and then my boyfriend's mom came over with all these presents for me from him and they kept asking me to call/Skype him but he was in the shower so I couldn't really do that and I was on edge because Mom was stressed and AUG! It was kinda hard. But now it's done, and I feel better. Phew.

(1): courtesy of azebra117

(2): Myth Queen so graciously gave me this idea.


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